Understanding
by verity-mac
Summary: Just a take on how the conversation could have gone between Joan and Helen at the end of the episode 'Just Say No'.


**Author:** Verity

**Disclaimer:** Characters aren't mine no matter how much I want them…

**Notes:** This is just something that has been spinning in my mind for a while now. Just a take on how the conversation might have gone at the end of the episode 'Just Say No'. It's been written and re-written and I still don't know if I like it…but you get that. Feedback is always welcomed, so long as it's constructive.

Understanding 

"_I have something to tell you."_

"_I know…"_

Helen stepped into Joan's room, reluctantly releasing her hold on the doorframe. She silently shut the door behind her, blocking out the occasional yell from one of the boys as they played video games. She sat on the end of the bed, Joan watching her carefully as she played her fingers together over her lap. She really didn't know how to start; her mind had been racing ever since she had taken those first steps up to Joan's room. The time to tell her daughter had come too fast, too soon. Wasn't it only yesterday that they had been playing together, her daughter too young to understand such horrors about the world? She exhaled a breath she didn't know she had been holding, feeling her daughter's eyes on her.

"Joan…"

Joan watched her mother struggle before taking a breath and apologizing too her. "I'm sorry I got angry, mom. About your paintings."

Helen looked over at her. "I guess they meant more to me then I think I ever realised." Her focus drifted again. It had started she couldn't stop it now. She felt Joan's outstretched hand running over her arm and she took her hand, shuffling up the bed. She thought of Will and his plea to her. She had to do this, but not just for him, or her wide-eyed innocent daughter gently holding her hand, but she had to do it for herself. So many years and sometimes it felt like yesterday and she was still hurting that deeply.

She looked over at Joan, motioning for her daughter to scoot over as she moved to sit next to her against the bed head. Once they were both comfortable, she continued.

"When I did those paintings I was in a dark place. I was scared and ashamed and…" she paused.

"In pain?" Joan asked quietly.

Helen nodded apathetically and looked over at her. "I was hurting, I felt ugly and alone…" she faded off once again, deciding to take a different approach. After a pause she started again: "I'm not against you having a life, having a boyfriend or any of that. You're sixteen…" she broke off, not sure about how to continue. This new approach wasn't working as well as she had hoped.

Joan watched her mother falter again.

"Mom."

"He raped me Joan." Helen was slightly taken aback with her forwardness, but at that moment she knew she had to say it. The mounting pressure in her chest, her nervousness – it had to be said straight out.

Joan too was taken aback. She turned towards her mother, shocked but not surprised. She had known this, deep down she realised; she had known this.

"Who?" she whispered, not realising the tears pooling in her eyes matched her mothers until she turned her head. Joan steeled herself, she had to be stronger then this.

Helen shrugged, "he was never caught."

"Mom – " Joan's voice caught before she could finish. Helen reached out to her and Joan embraced her fiercely. She felt her mother shake slightly and the touch of wetness on her cheek. She tightened her hold on her mom and on her resolve. She refused to cry now.

"I'm sorry mom," the only words she was capable of saying.

* * *

"You're still up?" Will took in his wife's appearance, not doubting his decision to wait up for her. "You didn't have too."

"I had too," he said immediately after her, rising from the bed. She closed her eyes as he moved to hold her, feeling his arms slip firmly around of her. "I'm proud of you. " He said after a moment. She leaned back to look at him. "You tell me so often that you are proud of me and I've…I've never told you how proud I am of you…of who you are, of what you do for this family," he took her face in his hands, running his thumbs over her cheeks. "For me."

She leant forward, but he held her back slightly and she looked at him slightly confused and hurt.

"I'm so sorry." He finished. "I'm so sorry for it all."

Helen raised her hand to his, holding his hand to her face before moving to reach out and run her fingers across his jaw line.

"In the end I did it for me, Will. I wanted to do it for you, but in the end…" she trailed off as he caressed her face again, and he didn't resist her this time as she leaned in to kiss him.

Her need surprised him, but he felt her waiver and as he pulled back he saw her face crumble. She clung to him tightly as he moved them towards the bed, promising to never let her go.

* * *

Joan lay in the darkness of her room, curled around the pillow she held to her chest. The pillow was wet with the tears she had already cried, and her nose was running, but she didn't care. She thought of her mom, He was right – it was evil. How could he let this happen? If he was God, how could he let something so evil happen, why did he still let it happen? The injustice of it all caused her to sob again. A fresh wave of tears welled inside her. She understood now; the times she thought her mother had been intrusive, unfair, against her – all to protect her. She understood now. Clutching the pillow tighter to herself, the quiet sobs of her mother in the next bedroom were barely heard as she drifted off into an uneasy sleep.


End file.
